Good Intent
by GirHugs
Summary: Tony isn't the same kid SHIELD caught hacking their system all those yrs ago. He's mature now, really. Okay, he still has a penchant for hacking into systems that are supposed to be 'highly secure' and he may forget to feed himself sometimes...but he's old enough to make his own decisions! And he's getting really sick of everyone treating him like a kid. (Slash/Sequel to 'AON' )
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel.**

* * *

_(Sequel to 'Apropos of Nothing,' Begins after 5 year time skip)_

_Prologue_

"You're staring."

Clint takes a sip of his scotch before glancing over at his partner. "It's my job to watch over things."

"Things?" Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him and there's a hint of amusement in her voice. Clint chooses to ignore the prod.

They stand there together, in silence, watching over the occupants of the room. There's laughter and alcohol and chatter. It is a party after all.

"You should tell him," Natasha says after a while.

"Tell who what?"

Natasha makes a sound of disappointment in her throat. "Don't play stupid, Clint. It's unappealing."

"I didn't realize I needed to make myself appealing to you," Clint responds, eyes continuously scanning the room. Director Fury… Coulson… Tony… Pepper… Stane… Tony... Steve… Darcy… Tony… Bruce… Betty… Rhodes… Tony. Always back to Tony.

"You don't, but I doubt Tony finds stupidity an attractive quality either," Natasha says lightly but earns a harsh glare from Clint regardless. It's always there, the unspoken fact that Clint's feelings for Tony had begun to shift…but that's precisely what it was supposed to have remained – _unspoken_.

The marksman drains the remains of his scotch and sets the empty glass down before stalking away from Natasha. He heads over to Colonel Rhodes.

"Agent Barton," Rhodes smiles in greeting.

"Colonel," Clint nods. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

The question is unnecessary. Clint knows exactly what time the jet is scheduled to leave; he knows precisely what time the jet is due to arrive in Russia, what time the demonstration is, what time the convention is, what time Tony's speech will be given. He's had the itinerary memorized for weeks now.

"7:30 am," Rhodes looks down to the beer in his hand. "I should probably stop drinking. Can't risk a hangover; I'm not as young as I used to be," he says with a wry grin.

"Neither am I," Clint agrees with a hint of regret, eyes glancing over Rhodes' shoulder to where Tony is speaking with Steve and Darcy.

Rhodes notices Clint's distraction and turns around to stand shoulder to shoulder with the agent. "Ah, the birthday boy himself."

"He'd argue that he's not a boy any longer," Clint says, voice carefully neutral.

"Hmm," Rhodes hums his agreement. "I'd argue that he never really had the chance to be a _boy_, at all."

Clint remembers the story of Colonel Rhodes and Tony's first meeting – just as he remembers everything he's ever learned about Tony's life – and knows that Rhodes' statement is fairly accurate. Tony has always been special and he was forced to grow up far faster than most. But he is still very…young.

"I'll take care of him," Rhodes promises, his tone much more serious than it had been just a moment before.

Clint meets Rhodes' gaze and holds it. After a moment, Clint nods his head and filches a champagne flute off a tray as a server passes by. "I'll hold you to that," Clint responds before taking a sip of his drink.

He knows Rhodes meant it as a comfort – and he does trust Rhodes to watch over Tony – but Clint still has this unsettling feeling twisting his stomach into knots. It's a feeling that whispers something is going to go _wrong_.

Across the room, Tony throws his head back and laughs at something Darcy has said. Clint's lips twitch upward in an involuntary smile and the tension that had been thrumming through him all night is momentarily forgotten.

Two weeks later, Clint regrets so casually brushing away that feeling of unease.


	2. An Option to Consider

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel.**

* * *

"Here."

Something bumps against Rhodes' shoulders and he blearily opens his eyes. When he sees the glass of water being offered, Rhodes grunts out a 'thank you' and then takes a large gulp. He holds the cool glass to his head and slouches back in his seat with a pain-filled groan. He's never going to challenge Thor to a drinking game ever again.

A soft chuckle has him glaring half-heartedly at Tony.

"Shut up," Rhodes grouses.

"I didn't say anything," Tony smirks, his eyes locked on the tablet in his lap.

"Your face says it all."

Tony shakes his head and swipes a finger over the screen. "I'll try to keep my face in line then."

Rhodes winces as the jet lifts for take off and the sun comes glaring through the window. He hits a button on the armrest and dark-blinds slide down over the window. Relief is instantaneous. His eyelids droop closed and he struggles to make them slide back up. The effort seems too much a bother, so Rhodes decides to just take a nap.

He isn't sure how long he is out for, but when he next opens his eyes, he sees that Tony still hasn't moved from his spot. In fact, Tony is still looking over some files on his tablet, a small frown curling his lips downwards.

Rhodes picks up his now lukewarm water and takes a sip. His eyes drift back to Tony, who is so absorbed in his work that he hasn't even noticed the Colonel's return to consciousness. Rhodes notices the tension thrumming through Tony's body and a wave of concern washes over him.

"Nervous?"

Tony startles at the question and glances up to meet Rhodes' gaze. When he sees he's being studied, Tony immediately plasters on that charming grin of his and sets the tablet down. "Why would I be nervous?" He asks as he throws his arms out over the back of the seat.

Rhodes takes a sip of water and considers his next words carefully. Even as a street-kid, Tony had always been on the defensive. And as he had matured…well, it certainly hadn't become _easier_ to get past those defenses.

"Because…this the first time you've flown solo on a demonstration. It's a lot of responsibility."

Tony's smile falters for a second before coming back full-force; this time, it's sharper with a bit of _challenge_ to it.

_Crap…_Rhodes inwardly winces.

"You don't think I can handle it," Tony says accusingly.

"I never said that," Rhodes says in a firm voice. "I just meant it's okay if you're nervous."

Tony's eyes drop to the tablet in front of him and a small frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. "There's nothing to be nervous about," he says firmly, as if he's reassuring himself of the fact.

"Of course," Rhodes agrees. "You know the SI products in and out. I'm sure you'll blow everyone away…you know, instead of up," he says jokingly in an attempt to introduce some levity to the conversation. He receives an eye roll from Tony and thinks it's good enough.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Rhodey," Tony says dryly.

"No problem, kiddo," Rhodes snarks back and turns his attention to the basket of snacks to the side of the table. He completely misses the troubled look that flashes across Tony's face.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

"Agent Romanoff told me it's the best place to go. We have to try the…shashlik," Rhodey stumbles over the word and Tony sniggers. Natasha would just die at the horrible pronunciation. Or more accurately, she would kill Rhodey with her thighs-of-death for the horrible pronunciation.

"And the vodka, right?" Tony asks just to be an ass. The Colonel was still recovering from his hangover.

"Ugh," Rhodey shoots him a glare and Tony laughs.

"I'll take that as a no."

The elevator arrives at their floor and they exit with their bags in tow. They come to Tony's room first and Rhodey continues on down the hall. "Be ready in three hours," Rhodey calls out to him before disappearing into his own room. Tony nods to himself; he's sure he can finish his task within that time frame.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Tony immediately pulls out his laptop and plugs it in to the external hard drive he's brought along. He backs everything up on the hard drive and then gets to work setting up a secure connection.

He'd been notified that there was new – _important_ – intel close to six hours ago, but he hadn't wanted to risk retrieving it while trapped on the jet with Rhodey. It was bad enough that the Colonel had picked up on his strained nerves. Tony definitely can't afford to let anything else slip.

Fingers quickly tapping away, Tony gets all the firewalls up and running. Air whooshes out of his lungs as he releases a deep breath. After a moment of hesitation, he picks up his Starkphone and makes the call. A monotone voice comes over the line asking for his security code and Tony rattles off the fifteen-digit string of numbers.

Not twenty seconds later, there is an encrypted file sitting in his inbox. It takes him a good ten minutes to crack open the file – which just goes to show how sensitive the intel is – and immediately starts reading through the updates.

As soon as he's done memorizing all the information, Tony completely wipes his drive clean and then restores his laptop to working capacity using the external hard drive backup.

Once that's done, he goes into the bathroom. He turns the shower on and lets steam fill the bathroom. When he steps into the shower, he just stands there, letting the hot, soothing water rush over his body. It does a good job of relaxing his tense muscles, but his mind is still racing.

He tries to divert his attention to SI projects, to the new comms Fury wants, to the surprise anniversary party Bruce had asked his help planning, to _anything_ except what he just read in that file…unfortunately, multitasking is a hazard of being a genius. His brain just won't stop straying back there, no matter how much Tony wishes it would.

Twenty minutes later, he's dried off and clothed. He settles into the desk chair and begins going through his work email. Obadiah has sent him two emails in the past hour. Both emails are just long-winded 'reminders' about the selling points of their latest non-lethal product line. Tony lets out a scoff and trashes them; it's as if Obi forgot that _Tony_ was the one to develop all the new prototypes.

There's a few emails from his underlings – he likes to think he's better than Darcy for not calling them minions – and he answers all pressing issues right then. Tony leaves some of the emails unanswered, hoping that his project teams will brainstorm on their own. They need a little bit of independence; after all, intellectual freedom – and, more often than not, boredom – gives birth to the best inventions.

Just as Tony sends off his last email, there's a knock on the door. Quickly, he slips his laptop and tablet into the room's small safe. Filching his wallet and Starkphone off the side table, Tony goes to answer the door.

He opens the door to find Rhodey dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. Looks like a shower, nap, and some ibuprofen was the key to remedy a hangover.

The Colonel flashes his teeth in a warm smile and nods down the hallway. "Ready?"

"Yep," Tony steps out into the hallway and pulls the door firmly shut behind him. "Let's go."

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

_Flashback_

"Mr. Stark," the Director greets as he sweeps into the room. Tony's grown more than used to the title over the years, along with all the responsibilities and…_expectations_ that went along with it.

Fury goes over to the side of the room and punches a security code into the panel. It's not entirely unexpected. Whatever Fury wants to discuss with him is obviously important. After all, they're holding this meeting in the very bowels of SHIELD.

Tony has never been down to this level of the SHIELD headquarters. He's not even supposed to have technically known it existed before today. But as Fury's plans for keeping Tony out of SHIELD's business are wont to due, it hadn't remained secret for long.

He had discovered the existence of this level during one of his bored-as-fuck hacker sessions. Never let it be said that Tony plays favorites. He might have connections at SHIELD, but that doesn't exempt them from his random – and sometimes not so random – bouts of hacking. He likes to think he's doing them a favor. You know, keeping them on their toes and whatnot.

"Director," Tony greets back as Fury settles into a chair on the other side of the table. "Want to tell me what I'm doing here?"

Fury's face is set in his trademark scowl, but there's something in the tense set of the Director's shoulders that has Tony leaning forward in his chair. Alarm bells start going off in Tony's head. The Director set a thin file atop the table.

"You in no way have to feel any sort of obligation to agree to this. But considering…" Fury drops silent and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Tony's never seen the Director this hesitant. Finally, Fury drops his hand settles a heavy gaze upon Tony. "I had to at least consider you as an option."

"Alright," Tony says slowly, eyebrows drawn down in concern. "Option for what, exactly?"

Fury slides the file across the table and flicks it open.

Five minutes later, Tony closes the file and steadily meets the Director's gaze. "I'll do it."

"You understand – "

"I said," Tony cuts Fury off. "I'll do it."

Fury considers the determined look on the young man's face. Whatever he sees there must be good enough because he gives a brisk nod and waves Tony to his feet. "Alright then, follow me. We'll need to start your training immediately."


	3. Be Prepared

**Disclaimer: Avengers are property of Marvel.**

* * *

"Yes, Obie. It went fine," Tony rolls his eyes and Rhodey stifles a laugh from across the table. "Uh huh." Tony throws a napkin at the Colonel to get him to stop.

"No."

Rhodey throws it back at him. Tony ducks out of the way and it hits a girl at the table behind them.

"Yes, I'm listening."

She turns around to glare at them. "I'm sure," Tony says through a huff of laughter and Rhodey smiles apologetically.

"Yes, I'll keep in touch. Alright." Tony pulls the Starkphone away from his ear. "Bye, Obi!" He yells into the phone and then ends the call.

"I thought you were supposed to be the adult here," Tony accuses and then takes a bite of his cheeseburger.

"And I thought _you_," Rhodey points a French fry at Tony, "Were supposed to be happy. You just made SI a ton of money! Why aren't we celebrating?"

"We _are_ celebrating," Tony says after swallowing his mouthful of food. "By clogging our arteries with greasy food. You're the one who said you were never drinking alcohol again. I just came up with a great, heart-not-so-friendly alternative."

"Mmhmm," Rhodey hums his agreement as he takes a large bite out of his bacon cheeseburger. "That you did."

They finish eating their food and then go back to the hotel. Rhodey insists on celebrating with at least _one_ drink, so they take a detour to the bar. One drink turns into two turns into three turns into four and before either of them realizes it it's just about midnight and they are both feeling a little tipsy.

Tony still has enough sense about him to call it after four drinks and drags Rhodey away from the bar with him. They get up to their floor and Tony goes crashing onto his bed once he's inside his room. For the moment, all his anxieties are forgotten.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

"You're sure you'll be fine?" Rhodes asks as he packs his clothes back into his suitcase.

Rhodey has been called back to the U.S. for training seminar for a select few of the Air Force officers. Rhodey just happens to be one of those 'select few.' It still amazes Tony sometimes how good the Director is at pulling strings.

"Yes," Tony says dramatically as he throws himself onto the bed. "I don't know where all of you guys got this idea that I am somehow incapable of taking care of myself."

"We just worry," Rhodey says distractedly. "Have you seen my charger?"

Tony points over at the coffee table in the corner and Rhodey snatches it up before throwing it into his bag. "Yeah, but my point is that you shouldn't worry."

"We'll never stop worrying about you, Tony. It's what family does," Rhodey smiles warmly down at him and ruffles his hair.

Tony bats Rhodey's hand away and scrunches up his nose in distaste in order to mask the way that the Colonel's words make Tony's chest ache.

Tony doesn't like lying to the people he cares for, but it really is necessary. Bruce, Clint, and Rhodey are over-protective of him on a good day. If they knew what he was doing with SHIELD, then they would fly into full on mother-bear mode…or in Bruce's case full on mother-Hulk mode, which sounds endlessly more entertaining but would probably entail more infrastructure damage as well.

"Alright," Rhodey pats Tony's leg and motions for him to get off the bed. "Let's go."

Tony drives them to the airfield and sees Rhodey off. He waits until the jet is just a speck in the sky before folding himself back into the Audi. The drive back to the hotel is done on autopilot as his mind wanders elsewhere.

The Director had made numerous suggestions as to how Tony could go about succeeding, but he'd also told Tony that real-time adjustments are often necessary. Tony has to be prepared for a multitude of different scenarios.

The convention starts tomorrow and he is supposed to give his speech late afternoon. He isn't at all worried about his speech, only the audience, or more specifically, one audience member. If his target doesn't come to him, then Tony will have to seek the man out himself.

He spends so long reading and checking and double-checking all of the intel he's got that he almost misses dinner. Room service really is a wonderful thing. After his meal, he feels a little sleepy. He figures he'll spend most of the night too wound up with anxiety to get much rest, so he should just take advantage of it now.

He closes his eyes and sometime later his pants start vibrating. He fumbles around for his phone and almost falls off the bed before wrestling it out of his pocket.

"Hello?" Tony says groggily as rolls over onto his back.

"Hey, Tony," Clint's gruff voice greets and Tony jerks into a sitting position. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Tony clears his throat and shakes his head clear of any fatigue plaguing his mind but it kind of just sends the world spinning around him. "No, I'm up."

"Mhmm," Clint hums doubtfully but doesn't seem all too concerned about having woken Tony up. "So I hear you did well at the demonstration."

"Well is a bit of an understatement. I fucking rocked it!" Tony exclaims proudly as he leans back against the headboard.

Clint snorts out a laugh and Tony grins happily. "I'm sure you did. How was your day off with Rhodes?"

"Oh," Tony rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "Rhodey was called back for some training seminar so I'm on my own now."

"I wasn't aware of that," Clint says and Tony can just hear the frown in the archer's voice.

"Not a big deal," Tony says quickly. "I just hung out at the hotel today and then the convention starts tomorrow. It's probably a good thing, actually, that Rhodey left. God knows he would have been bored out of his mind sitting through a week of science-talk."

"Hmm," Clint hums thoughtfully. "Maybe Bruce would be interested in taking Rhodey's freed up ticket..."

"No!" Tony lets slip in his panic and hastily rushes to cover. "I mean, uhh, this isn't really Bruce's thing. Wrong kind of science-talk." Not _technically_ a lie. Bruce has always enjoyed physics more than mechanical engineering.

"Right," Clint agrees hesitantly and they fall into an almost _awkward_ silence. Tony can't remember if he's ever felt this uncomfortable talking to Clint.

"Well," Clint says slowly. "I guess I should probably let you rest."

"Yeah…I mean, not that I need beauty sleep or anything since I am so amazing looking already. But I guess it couldn't hurt," Tony jokes.

"Night, Tony." Tony grins cause he can just picture the eye-roll accompanying Clint's dry voice.

"Nighty night," Tony chirps and then hangs up. He releases a slow breath as the smile slowly fades from his face. He really does hate lying to Clint.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

"Something wrong?" Natasha asks when Clint walks into the kitchen with a frown on his face.

"No," Clint draws the word out, as if he's unsure about his own answer.

"That wasn't entirely reassuring," she says wryly.

"I just…" Clint shakes his head and runs a hand through his short hair. "Don't read into this," he says pointedly, "But I feel like something is off with Tony."

Natasha leans forward in her chair and studies Clint closely. "What makes you say that?"

"Just…things. Not even restricted to now. He's been acting weird for weeks… I think." Clint looks at Natasha beseechingly and she makes sure that her face is as blank as ever. "You haven't noticed anything?"

"No," she shakes her head slowly. "Has Bruce voiced any concerns?"

Clint heaves a sigh and moves towards the fridge. "No, he hasn't. I'm probably worried over nothing."

Natasha would like to tell Clint that his instincts are rarely wrong, but in this case, it would be best if he just dropped the matter. "You just don't like that he's so far away from you," she teases gently and Clint shoots a glare at her.

"Tasha," he growls and Natasha just holds up her hands in a placating manner.

"I'll leave it alone," she says quickly before hopping out of her seat. "I'm gonna head to the gym. Want to spar later?" Maybe letting Clint land a few hits will ease his anxiety and her guilt.

"Sure," Clint agrees begrudgingly as he puts a sandwich together. "Be down in an hour."

Natasha nods and then retreats from the kitchen. Once she's in a more private location, she pulls out her phone and calls SHIELD.

"Hill, I need to speak with the Director. It's about Clint," Natasha pauses for a moment before pushing through. "I think he needs a distraction."

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

_Flashback_

"Hold," Natasha orders in a stern voice. "Ten more seconds."

Tony's nostrils flare as he holds his core steady and maintains the position. "Is there any particular reason…." Tony pants out, "That you are training me to be a contortionist?"

Natasha waves a hand and Tony immediately drops to the ground and sucks in gulps of air. "Because," Natasha crouches down next to him with a tiny smirk on her face, "You aren't muscular enough to use brute force. You're strength must come from your agility and ability to control even the smallest muscle movements. In order to do that, you need to become _aware_ of your body."

"Believe me," Tony winces as he shifts into a sitting position and Natasha _almost_ feels sorry for him. "I am definitely aware of my body…and how much fucking pain it's in."

"Stop whining," Natasha smacks his thigh. "And get up."

Shuffling to his feet, Tony's legs shakes with the exertion. "Ugh," he groans. "My legs feel like jelly."

Unfortunately for Tony, Natasha actually cares _too_ much about his safety to go easy on him. There isn't much time before the mission and she knows she's pushing him a little hard, but it's _necessary_.

"Ready."

She watches Tony shift his weight onto the balls of his feet as he takes up a defensive position. A single nod signals the start of the match and she immediately springs into an attack.

Tony manages to dodge her kidney-punch, but he can't get out of the reach of her kick. She can see how he does a quick exhale to brace his stomach muscles against the body shot. He's quick to recover from the stinging connection and throws a left hook at her head. It's a glancing shot, his knuckles just catching her cheekbone, but it's more than he's managed before.

She catches his arm as it flies past and uses his momentum to flip him onto his back. Before she can get a hold on him, he tucks and rolls to put space between them. It's a smart move, but she's quick to give chase. Landing a kick to the back of his knee, Natasha sends Tony crashing to the ground. Once he's down, she gets him in a chokehold.

It doesn't take long for him to tap-out after that. She releases her grip and allows him to lean into her for support as he recovers his breath.

"You okay?" At his brusque nod, she drags him to his feet. "Again."

"Can't we take a quick break?" Tony pants out, his arms crossed over his head as he calms his breathing.

"No."

"Slave-driver," Tony grumbles as his arms drop to his side.

"Tony," Natasha begins sharply and Tony quickly waves her off.

"I know," Tony says tiredly. "I know it's for my own good, alright? Just…" He shrugs half-heartedly and gives her a small, self-deprecating smile. "It's a little bit hard to remember that part when I'm having my ass handed to me."

Natasha quickly runs her eyes over Tony's body and takes in the numerous bruises and cuts scattered across his lithe build. His fighting skills aren't quite where she would like them to be in order to feel comfortable, but he is improving.

"We can take a break from fighting," she concedes and moves to the side of the room. She picks up two water bottles and throws one over to Tony. "There's another area of your training that we can begin."

"Yeah?" Tony pours some of the water over his head to cool off and swipes the excess from his eyes. "What area is that?"

Natasha flashes her teeth in a sly grin and Tony swallows nervously. "How to run a proper interrogation."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this is the last chpt I had finished and ready to go. Now all you guys are gonna have to be patient and wait for me to write the next one XD**


	4. Work With What You Got

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Avengers, sadly.

* * *

**3 - Work With What You Got**

_(Flashback)_

It was only two days ago that Tony was called into a super-secret meeting by the Director and ended up agreeing to help SHIELD out. But, as Tony tends to do, he rushed into something before really understanding the details. All he'd seen was 'miniaturized arc reactor' and then the words 'I'll do it' had come spilling out of his mouth before he even knew what '_it'_ actually was.

And so far, his 'training' had mainly consisted of the Director laying down a bunch of SHIELD protocols that he had to follow (as if Tony would ever follow those pesky things called 'rules'). But now the Director wants to brief him on what's going on, so Tony sits patiently – or as patiently as Tony Stark possibly can – while the Director and Agent Hill give him the details of his mission.

"This is Ivan Vanko," the Director points to the picture on the left of a hulking, tattooed man. There's something unsettling about the way the man's eyes shine with manic intent.

"And this is Professor Vladimir Azarov." The man pictured on the right is much less frightening and looks similar to the mild-mannered professors Tony had learned from – and possibly driven crazy – during his college years.

"The transcripts I showed you before detailed their conversations about the possibility of making your theory for a miniaturized arc reactor into a reality."

Tony tries not to show any discomfort at the Director's comment, but he can't help but feel responsible. He'd written that paper because he thought it would be an interesting way to revolutionize clean-energy.

…But, given his own in-depth knowledge of the weapons industry, he'd quickly realized the dangerous applications for such a thing. That's the reason he never took the idea past publication-phase despite Obie's hopes for a working prototype.

"What do we know about them?" Tony asks. "And do we know why they took an interest in my paper?"

"Vanko's father used to work on projects for SI a ways back but he departed from SI on fairly bad terms," the Director explains as he hands Tony a file. "Intel says that, after his father died, Vanko started keeping tabs on SI projects. He probably came across your publication and thought that actually making the thing would be a good way to honor his father and rub it in SI's face."

Tony opens the file and scans through the profiles on each of the men. Before his reputation in the academic world was ruined by a ten-year stint in prison, Vanko was an ingenious mechanical engineer. Professor Azarov, by the look of things, is more of a theoretician. He might be able to conceptually understand the logistics on how to make Tony's idea for a miniaturized arc reactor work, but Tony doubts he'd be able to build it. That would probably be Vanko's job. And apparently the two had known each other from before Vanko's prison sentence.

"And where are they now?" Tony asks, looking up at the Director.

"Three days ago," Agent Hill steps forward and pulls out a stack of photos, which she slides in front of Tony. "Ivan Vanko was killed by a Russian weapons dealer that he pissed off during his stay in prison."

"That's a good thing, right?" Tony asks as he sifts through the gruesome images of a burned and dismembered body. There are just enough stretches of non-charred flesh to show the identifying tattoos on the arms and chest. "I mean, the information says that Vanko was the driving force behind the partnership. So if he's dead then can Professor Azarov even finish the project by himself?"

Tony pushes the photos away and then looks up to see the Director studying Azarov's image with a thoughtful frown – scowl, really, because the Director always looks so _angry_ – on his face.

"No. Azarov is more into theory than application. But, two days ago, the surveillance we have on Azarov recorded his side of a phone call." Fury brings up an audio file and presses play.

There's a moment of static crackle and then a deep, thickly accented voice filters through the air.

"Yes, I am Azarov. How do you know about the reactor- Well, it is still mainly theory. But- Yes, I am sure we can come to some sort of an agreement. I give you the research and- Yes, yes. I understand. Is there a telephone number- Yes. Okay. Goodbye."

The recording only has one side of the stilted conversation but the implications are easy enough to interpret. Someone else knows what Vanko and Azarov were working on. And they're _interested_.

"So this mission isn't just about figuring out how far they got with the project then?" Tony asks, voice steady despite his growing anxiety. This mission seems to be getting more difficult. But the reactor is _his_ responsibility…

"Correct," Fury agrees. "We need you to try and find out who Azarov was talking too. And what information Azarov gave them."

"Okay," Tony nods as confidently as he can. "Is there any actual plan for how I'm supposed to make contact with Professor Azarov?"

Hill hands him a laminated badge with his name and Russian underneath. "We think that since his project collaborator has just been killed, he'll approach you, if given the chance. That's why you are now scheduled to speak at a convention three weeks from now; a convention where Professor Azarov will also be speaking."

Tony accepts the badge. "That's not too long to wait?"

"I'm already going to be dealing with the fall-out of involving you with a SHIELD mission, period. I'm not going to make things worse by sending you out unprepared," the Director grumbles and Tony tries to hide his grin at the thought of Bruce and Steve chastising the Director and Clint playing 'pranks' on the Director as retribution. Based on the way Fury glares at him, Tony doesn't think he succeeded.

"Okay, three weeks then," Tony smiles, completely unaware that the next three week attending Natasha's School of Pain are going to be a _long_ three weeks.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

In theory, the plan had been good. Fury and Hill seemed confident that all Tony had to do was _be there_ and Professor Azarov would approach him. Which may have been true, if Professor Azarov had bothered to show up.

Tony delivers his speech, eyes constantly searching the crowd for his target. But his target is nowhere to be seen. The applause of the crowd afterwards – which he usually enjoys endlessly – seems mocking.

He spends a week walking around the convention, trying to enjoy _science_ with the other slightly-less-brilliant-than-he people, but grows more and more nervous as the days tick by and there is _still_ no sign of Azarov. SHIELD intelligence informs him that Azarov is in the city; he just hasn't attended the convention yet.

So each night, Tony checks in and reports back absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. And he can't help but feel like a disappointment. This is his shot to help – to prove himself – and he's _failing_.

Agent Sitwell – who is acting as his SHIELD handler because the Director hadn't wanted to tell Coulson about Tony's involvement with a SHIELD mission – keeps reminding Tony to stay calm. He says there's no way to guess how a mission will play out until an agent is on the ground. SHIELD can meticulously strategize for missions, but Real Life has a knack for fucking up those little things called 'plans.' Adaptability is an agent's best tool.

So Tony tries to keep his cool and continues on. And then _finally_, at the end of the second week, Professor Azarov deigns to show up to deliver his own speech.

Tony makes sure he sits towards the front and tries to figure out how he's going to approach this. Azarov finishes his speech and answers questions from the crowd and then Tony shadows him around the convention. Staying close by, Tony waits until Azarov wanders into a fairly crowded area to make his move by 'accidently' stumbling into the professor.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry about that," Tony apologizes profusely as Azarov turns towards him.

The professor's face is a picture of annoyance. But then his eyes scan Tony's body in a way that makes Tony inwardly cringe and also think _Okay_…_I can work with that_.

"Oh! I just watched your speech! You're Professor Azarov!," Tony gushes, infusing as much of an awe-struck quality into his voice as he can. He makes sure to step in towards the professor and keep his body language as open and inviting as he can. "I am so sorry about almost running you over, Professor. It's just very crowded in here and-"

Azarov waves away the apology and smiles kindly (and creepily) down at him. "It is not a problem."

"Um," Tony puts on a show of biting his lip nervously and sees the professor's eyes dart down. "I was wondering…" Tony looks up through his eyelashes at Azarov. "Would you mind answering some questions I have?"

"Not at all. But first," Azarov holds his right hand out. "Maybe you should tell me your name."

"Oh, right," Tony laughs and shakes the professor's hand. "Anthony Stark."

Azarov's eyes widen in shock before his grin turns a little more shark-like. Tony can't help but think that the man has the wrong idea about who the prey is here.

"Is that so?" Azarov muses, tightening his grip on Tony's hand for a moment before releasing it. "Well, Anthony, would you like to join me for dinner? Maybe I can answer your questions while we eat," Azarov proposes and Tony has to stop himself from doing a happy-dance at how awesome he is at being a super-secret agent. His mission may have begun with a few hiccups, but now it seems to be going wonderfully.

"That sounds great," Tony agrees and follows the professor out of the convention.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

Hawkeye whistles down the hallway, signaling that it's all clear for Widow to follow. When she comes around the corner, her eyebrows raise in amusement at his appearance.

"Having fun, are we?"

He swipes his tongue across his lips and tastes bitter iron. Nudging the unconscious guard on the ground with the toe of his boot, Hawkeye flashes Widow a bloodied grin.

"Guy had a mean right hook."

Clint could have easily knocked the guard out before the guy even knew he was there, but where's the fun in that? He feels an anxious energy thrumming through his body and he needs some sort of outlet. Fistfights, he's found, are a good way to temper some of that energy.

"Got what we came for?" Clint asks and Natasha pats the zipper-pouch on her left thigh.

"Mhmm, so if you're done playing around," she says wryly, "We can get out of here."

Clint grins and then takes off down the hallway. He hears the familiar sound of nothingness that means Widow is trailing just behind him.

They're just hopping the chain-linked fence on the east perimeter when they hear the blare of an alarm. Shots ring out and Clint laughs when the bullets hit the ground five yards to the left of them. They _obviously_ don't have mad skills like Hawkeye.

Jumping into the jeep they'd left behind a pile of scrap metal, the pair makes their escape, wheels spinning across the dirt road. Adrenaline is pumping through Clint's veins and he feels amazing. He grins over at Natasha and she just rolls her eyes and signals for him to watch the road.

He feels more settled than he has in weeks.

Twenty minutes later, they're pulling up to the Quinjet. While Clint unloads the jeep, Natasha checks in with Coulson. Clint only half-listens to the conversation, but he does pick up that they need to make a side trip to retrieve another SHIELD agent ready for extraction.

Once he's done transferring supplies, Clint slides into the pilot seat – fondly remembers the weeks he got to spend in this very seat helping Tony find and fix all of the flaws with the Quinjet's initial design – and powers it up. Natasha joins him up front as he's preparing for lift off.

Clint pauses with a hand over the controls, waiting to key in their destination.

"Moscow," Natasha says brusquely but Clint can't help but smile as he sets the flight plan. Maybe he can talk Coulson into giving them a few free hours so that he could go check-in on Tony.


	5. Keep Calm, Carry On

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Avengers (despite very much wishing that I did)

**Warning** for slightly trigger-ish content of dubious-consent nature (It doesn't actually get far, but Tony is put in an uncomfortable situation)

* * *

**4 - Keep Calm, Carry On**

_(Flashback)_

"Stark," the Director nods in greeting as he walks into the conference room. Tony nods back and then tilts his head to the side when he spots Agent Sitwell trail in after Fury.

Fury figures Tony has seen Agent Sitwell around headquarters, but he knows they've never been properly introduced.

"This is Agent Sitwell," Fury informs Tony. "He'll be your handler."

Tony crosses his arms over his chest and Fury tries not to sigh when he sees the spark of defiance in the young man's eyes. "I figured Coulson would be my handler."

Fury was expecting that, because Coulson kind of is the kid's unofficial handler. He has been ever since Fury ordered Coulson to retrieve – kidnap, but they try not to use that word to avoid upsetting Steve – Tony half a decade ago.

"You figured wrong."

"Is there a reason _why_ Coulson isn't going to be my handler for this mission?"

There are many reasons. Like the fact that Coulson is extremely protective of Tony and would be a passive-aggressive pain in the ass if the Director informed the man that Tony has been roped into a SHIELD mission. There's also the fact that Coulson would most likely tell Clint and then Clint would tell Bruce and Steve and Fury just really doesn't want to deal with all the drama bullshit those three over-protective mother hens would send his way.

"Yes," the Director says but doesn't bother telling Tony it's because he doesn't have the patience – it's not because he's scared. Fury is scared of nothing – to deal with Tony's guardians. Instead, he just tells Tony, "Agent Sitwell is better suited for missions of this nature. He has a better working knowledge of scientific and engineering stuff."

"Stuff," Tony repeats almost mockingly.

Before the Director can work up a true temper, Sitwell clears his throat and steps forward. Sitwell slides a file onto the table and begins questioning Tony about his paper on the miniaturized arc reactor. The Director waits just long enough to see Tony lean forward in his seat and strike up an animated and highly technical discussion with Sitwell before slipping out of the room, leaving agent and handler to bond.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

Dinner ends up being incredibly boring, which isn't necessarily a _bad_ thing since exciting usually equates to dangerous with these sorts of things. But still…Tony had been hoping for a little bit more of a challenge. It is all too easy for Tony to poke and prod to get Azarov to reveal just how _little_ progress he and Vanko had made before the tattooed partner bit the dust.

The only detail the Russian duo managed to expand upon from Tony's paper was that palladium would be the best option as a conductor. Tony had already figured that out two years ago when he wrote the paper, but since he never wanted fabrication of the miniaturized arc reactor to become a reality he had decided to leave that tidbit out of the publication.

Azarov does try to not so subtly ask Tony questions about what he would do if he ever built the miniaturized arc reactor, but Tony manages to smoothly steer the conversation in a different direction. Given how large Azarov's ego is, it's fairly easy to turn the attention back onto the Russian by asking questions about the professor's own papers.

By the end of the night, Azarov is more than a little tipsy – Tony found that alcohol tends to loosen the tongue and since SHIELD's paying…shots all around! – and Tony is more than a little relieved. Despite Tony's own love of creating and building, he breathes a little easier knowing that this _particular _idea won't become a reality any time soon.

It's not until Tony is escorting a drunken Azarov back to the professor's hotel room that the nerves kick in once more. Tony's completed half his mission, but he still needs to figure out who the 'interested party' is. And the only way Tony can think of managing that is to rifle through Azarov's belongings or even gain access to the man's laptop. Tony isn't stupid enough to just outright ask the professor because, even drunk, Azarov is smart enough to know Tony _shouldn't_ know about the 'interested party.'

So Tony gets Azarov to the man's hotel room and then turns on the charm once more until the professor asks if Tony would like to come inside. Tony glances down at his watch and then nods in agreement and steps into the room. Surprisingly agile for a drunk, Azarov manages to shove Tony up against the door and start kissing and biting the bewildered genius's neck before Tony can process what's happening.

A shudder of panic runs down Tony's spine as the professor pants out hot puffs of air against his neck and Tony hastens to bring his hands up around Azarov's neck. The professor moans and Tony anxiously holds his breath as he presses a button on his watch that spring releases a tiny needle. Just as Azarov starts fumbling with the buttons on Tony's shirt, the young engineer stabs the needle into Azarov's neck.

The sedative is fast acting and Azarov has just enough time to stumble a few feet backwards and give Tony a confused look before his eyelids start to droop. A few seconds more and Azarov's knees give out.

Tony watches numbly as the professor crumbles to the floor. Frozen up against the door, Tony takes a moment to calm his racing heart; he feels weak-limbed himself. He can hear Natasha's steady voice in his head telling him to stay calm and composed, to _focus_ on finishing the mission. After a moment, Tony forcefully shakes his head and detaches himself from what just happened before the cold wash of dread prickling at the edge of his awareness can overwhelm him.

He drags Azarov's limp body up onto the bed. Searching through the closet, Tony finds two of the professor's ties and then secures the man's hands to the bedposts. Tony doesn't expect the sedative to wear off any time soon – Sitwell assured him the sedative should keep a man Azarov's size unconscious for four hours at minimum – but there's no harm in taking extra precautions (No one needs to know that the extra precaution helps soothe Tony's frazzled nerves more than a little).

Once the target is secured, Tony sends off a quick text to Sitwell to update his handler on the mission status and then locates Azarov's laptop. It's easy enough hacking into it and Tony quickly runs a program to locate and secure all encrypted files having to do with the arc reactor. He copies the files over to a flashdrive and then sets about downloading a prewritten program onto Azarov's laptop that will send notifications to Tony anytime the tagged files are updated or new files with certain keywords are created.

It takes Tony about an hour to do all that and then he moves on to figuring out who the 'interested party' is. He scours through Azarov's contacts and emails and snippets of audio recordings but finds nothing. Two hours later, Tony is grinding his teeth in frustration because he can't find _anything_.

His phone beeps and Tony glances over to read a text from Sitwell informing him that he needs to wrap up whatever he's doing and get out of there. Cursing to himself quietly, Tony angrily shuts down the programs he has running and then puts Azarov's laptop back where he found it.

Tony quickly scans the room, making sure everything is in order and then turns to the still unconscious Azarov. He hastily unties the professor's arms – avoiding touching him as much as possible – and throws the ties back into the closet. Just as he's closing the door behind him, Tony hears Azarov let out a low moan as the man begins to awaken.

Tony let's out a shaky laugh at the timing and then sends Sitwell a text informing his handler that he's safely on his way back to his own hotel.

Adrenaline is pulsing through his body still and he almost runs all the way back to his hotel just to get rid of excess energy. Just as he's entering his room, Sitwell texts him back coordinates and says he needs to pack up his stuff and be at those coordinates in two hours to meet the extraction team.

Tony takes a few steadying breaths in an attempt to center himself but it's not really working.

Another beep has Tony glancing down at his phone curiously. He can't help but laugh when he reads the text from Sitwell. _You did a_ _good job. Hill owes me a hundred bucks. She was sure you'd blow something up or reinitiate the Cold War._

_Maybe if Clint had been my training-agent,_ Tony texts back with a grin. _PS- I want a cut of the profit._

_Dream on, Newbie_, Sitwell responds. _But I'll buy you a coffee when you're back stateside_.

_Sounds like a deal to me_, Tony agrees with a smile. He throws his phone onto the bed and sets about packing his stuff up, feeling much steadier than he did a few minutes ago.

**xXxXxXxXx Good xXxXxXxXxXx Intent xXxXxXxXxXx**

Propped comfortably against a tree on the edge of the clearing, Natasha tries to focus on the soothing sound of metal rasping against metal as she sharpens her knives. But as time drags on, it's getting harder and harder to ignore Clint.

He's been on the phone with Coulson for the last twenty minutes trying to convince their handler to give them a free hour so he can go track Tony down. His pacing back and forth continues to get more agitated as Coulson denies the request.

In any other situation, Natasha would have teased the archer endlessly for being so fixated on seeing his 'crush,' but this whole situation just has her fuming silently. She has no idea why the Director or Hill weren't keeping a closer eye on things and making sure they weren't even in the same country as Tony, let alone the same city. Focusing on the anger at her superiors' inadequacy helps her ignore the way her stomach is churning with guilt.

"Fine!" Clint yells and angrily disconnects his call with Coulson. Natasha shoots him a disparaging look and the archer glares back for a second before his shoulders sag and he drops his gaze to the ground. "I should probably apologize to Coulson later, huh?"

Natasha snorts and rolls her eyes. "Only if you don't want to spend the rest of your days hiding in the vents." Coulson puts up with a certain amount of their bullshit, but Clint might have gone too far with his temper tantrum. "I don't see why you're so adamant about seeing Tony tonight. The convention is done tomorrow and he'll be back in New York on Saturday."

Actually, Tony might already be back in New York, if the mission went well. Natasha hasn't been in contact with Hill for a week, so she hasn't been updated on Tony's mission status.

Clint lets out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare up at the night sky. "I don't know. I just feel like Tony's been hiding something from us. And last time he did that…" Clint abruptly cuts himself off and his body goes tense. Natasha anxiously waits to see how he's going to handle that train of thought and cringes when he stalks back onto the Quinjet without another word.

Natasha digs her fingernails into the palm of her hand and forces herself to remain still. _Just a few more days_, she reminds herself. _Just a few more days, the mission will be done, and Tony will be back safe and sound and then we can tell Clint and the others._

The Director planned on never informing any of the others, but Tony and Natasha had already discussed things privately. Both of them saw the necessity for keeping the mission a secret right now, but once it was over with, neither of them felt comfortable keeping the lie.

Natasha can hear Clint moving around in the Quinjet and wonders just how far he's been thrown off by that particular memory, wonders if maybe he's on edge enough to disregard Coulson's orders and go seek out Tony anyways. She wonders if she has the strength to stop him if he were to do so.

What could have been moments or hours later, Natasha is snapped out of her thoughts by a piercing whistle. Rising to her feet, Natasha whistles back and watches the dark shadows for a sign of their fellow agent. She curls her fingers tight around her knife and waits.

A figure approaches out of the darkness and Natasha feels a wave of shock go over her when she recognizes the agent's features.

"Tony?" She grasps onto his arm tightly and drags him further away from the Quinjet. "What are you doing here?" Natasha hisses at him.

"Sitwell told me this was my extraction point," Tony explains as he distractedly tries to pry her fingers off his arm. "I'm assuming you're here to take me home, right?"

"I'm not here alone," Natasha positions her body between Tony and the Quinjet in case Clint comes out.

"Who's here…" Tony's eyes widen in shock when he realizes what she means. "Oh shit. Shit. Shit." He glances over her shoulder and swallows nervously. "Well, we were going to tell him anyways, right?" Tony looks back to her for confirmation. "I mean, the mission's done. So it's okay now."

Natasha finally releases Tony's arm and takes a step back to quickly scan his form. "You're okay? No injuries?"

"No," Tony quickly assures her. "Mission went fine. Didn't get all the intel Fury wanted, but I've got programs running to track Azarov's movements."

"Okay," Natasha smiles slightly, feeling a bit of pride in Tony. "Good." She turns and waves for Tony to follow her, hoping things don't go too horribly with Clint.

"Hey, Double-0!" Tony calls as he steps onto the Quinjet.

Clint immediately perks up from his slouched position in the pilot's chair and spins around quickly to stare at the pair.

"Tony?!" Clint looks shocked but happy. "What are you doing here?"

Tony shrugs his bag off his shoulder and shoots the archer a guilty grin. "Funny thing that…I'm the agent you're here to pick up."

Clint gets to his feet slowly and Natasha makes sure her face is carefully blank when he darts a quick glance in her direction. "You're what?" Clint asks in confusion as he returns his focus to Tony.

"Uh, yeah," Tony rubs his neck awkwardly and winces slightly, dropping his hand back down to his side. "I was here on a mission."

Natasha was expecting Clint to get a little - or maybe a lot – upset about being lied to, but she was not prepared for the dark, simmering _rage_ she sees creep into the archer's eyes. Her body tenses in response to the barely contained fury she can feel thrumming through Clint's too still form.

"A mission," he says in a low voice, eyes dark and piercing as he stares at Tony.

Following Clint's gaze, Natasha tenses even more when she realizes what Clint is staring at, what she hadn't noticed outside in the shadows. All along the side of Tony's neck, dark and red, are a string of bite marks.

_Yobany stos_, Natasha closes her eyes and just waits for the explosion.

* * *

**A/N**: Yobay stos means 'Fuck!' or 'Shit!' ...I think. I don't speak Russian so blame Google if I'm wrong XD

Also, I've been trying to get better about responding to reviews, but I am leaving for a two week vacation tomorrow (Europe, here I come! Woot! Woot!) and won't have time to respond to any reviews this update. BUT, any and all reviews are still VERY much appreciated (Seriously, guys, it is ridiculous how happy I get over reviews. My friends and family think I am insane when I grin maniacally and squirm in delight over the lovely support from you readers. So thanks!)


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